"I'll fix you something right away."
Pete started cooking the rest of the bacon and beans, took the remaining
biscuits from the sack, and Cindy groaned inwardly. They'd have no
breakfast at all now, but they couldn't deny hungry people.
"Get your claims?" Pete asked.
"I got one next section over," said Cal. "Sim's looking for a town lot."
Cal took a little coil of wire from his pocket, bent an end that had
been sticking him, and put the coil back.
"How are things in Plains City?" asked Pete.
"Wild," said Sim. "Six claimers for every lot. They've staked the
streets and everything else. I'll wait until it quiets down and buy me a
lot. Meanwhile I'm hanging out with Cal. I'm going back for his wagon
tomorrow."
"Would you mind," Mr. Simpson spoke up, "stopping by our wagon and
asking my son to come up too?"
"I'll be glad to. Where's your wagon?"
"Right next to mine," said Pete, "on the border a half mile north of
Sycamore Crossing."
"I'll find it," Sim promised. "Anything special you want?"
"You can tell Alec to bring the tools, and I'd like an extra team of
mules. Tell my wife that Cindy's safe and we can use some food."
"Sure," said Sim.
Before dark, five more Boomers had come to the grove. Three of them had
nothing to eat, but the other two divided their food. Every claim, they
said, was staked. Oklahoma had been almost settled in half a day. There
was no doubt that Sooners had much choice land, and there were many
arguments and claim jumping. Because they had known exactly where to go,
the Boomers had many of the finest homesteads.
The Boomers were still, Cindy felt, a special breed. It was hard to
imagine them jumping any claims, but just as hard to imagine anyone
jumping theirs. Cindy yawned.
"Tired, honey?" her father asked.
"Sort of."
"Guess we could all use some sleep."
Cindy slept with her head on Sparkle's saddle and the saddle blanket
over her. She did not awaken until the sun was rising. The Boomers who'd
camped with them had already gone their separate ways, but Jed and Pete
still slept. Lacking tools, they could do no work. But if they left
their claims, somebody might jump them.
Going to the creek, Cindy drank as much water as she could hold and told
herself she wasn't hungry. Rising, she saw a wagon coming over a
hillock. It contained the family who had to "make out" in Oklahoma.
Pete and Jed joined Cindy, and the wagon drew to a stop beside them. The
man and woman were on the seat, and the woman looked very worried. The
man seemed more tired than ever, and evidently the children were asleep
in the wagon.
"Howdy," the man said.
"Hi," said Jed and Pete together.
"How far," the man asked, "do you have to go into Oklyhomy to find land
that ain't staked?"
"I'm afraid," said Pete, "that you're too late."
"You mean," and the man seemed to grow more tired and the woman more
worried with each passing second, "it's all took up?"
"I'm afraid it is."
"I started good," the man said hoarsely, "but a horse played out. Time
I'd rested him, it was midnight. I started right out again."
"I'm sorry," said Pete.
"This your claim?" the man asked Jed.
"That's right."
"And that one's yours?"
"Yes, it is," said Pete.
"Whose is that'n over yonder?"
Cindy, her father, and Pete Brent looked at each other. There were
homesteaders on every claim except the one where a youngster had thrown
her jacket down. Boomers had honored this sign of ownership.
"That's yours!" Cindy cried. "Go stake it!"